Marguerite's Guardian Angel
by Eva3
Summary: Marguerite and Roxton - A Very Special Connection


MARGUERITE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL

By Eva

"Marguerite, you're not going to eat those…whatever they are…are you?" John looked skeptically at the basket being thrust at him as he stood by the stove preparing supper.

"They're called truffles, John. And, back in London, they're considered an aphrodisiac," she said slyly, arching her left eyebrow.

John glared at her as he brought the skillet down hard on the stove grating. "Are you hinting that we need one?"

"No…No! Of course not, John. I didn't mean to imply any such thing….or to wound your manly pride. I just thought you'd be pleased with the delicacy I found. At least, it's something different from the dried raptor meat we seem to be having lately at every meal."

"Oh…and now you're criticizing my hunting,' he said with mock injury.

"John! What's got into you today? Just because you came home empty handed and I didn't, there's no need to be surly about it."

"Well, those don't look like any truffles I've seen before. And, they don't look edible, either. Maybe you should let Challenger or Veronica take a look at them before you cook them. Just to make…."

"I know, I know…just to make sure I didn't pick something poisonous," she finished the sentence sarcastically.

"Marguerite, Veronica's lived on this plateau a lot longer than we have. She'll know whether they're edible or not."

"Really, John! If you don't want to cook them, I will. And, if you don't want to eat them, I will. I know truffles when I see them," she insisted defiantly. In truth, she was beginning to have doubts herself on the edibility of the mushrooms, but being as stubborn as John was determined not to be the first to give in.

"All right," he said, giving in. "Just don't expect me to share them, and when you get sick, don't expect me to…."

"Umm….yes, John…you've made your point. Trust me, you'll be the last person I'll come to if I get sick."

"Well, fine! The rest of us will eat raptor meat, and you can have your 'truffles' all for yourself."

"Fine!"

"Fine!" 

John tossed the plate of fried raptor meat on the table and strode from the room in a huff. "I'll tell the others dinner's ready."

Marguerite gazed intently at Lord Roxton's staunchly held shoulders as he walked to the balcony and called to Challenger and Veronica below. Normally, at this point she would be admiring the sight of the handsome hunter's muscular back, remembering the feel of the knotted muscles flexing over her body as they made love in her room late at night…something they had been enjoying for some time now. Nothing had been said, but she was sure Veronica knew about Roxton sneaking into her room late at night and then back to his before dawn. 

But today…with him in this mood…maybe it was the lack of a decent night's sleep that was making him so cross these days. Or, perhaps it was time to go public with the news of the extended boundaries of their relationship. They had discussed it several times in the last few weeks. Well, usually it was John who brought it up. Something which surprised Marguerite as she knew of Lord Roxton's notorious ladies man reputation back in London. The fact he wanted the others to know how far their love for each other had progressed, must mean he truly loved her.

Knowing that, she wondered why she was still reluctant to tell the others John was spending nights in her bedroom. 'Well, most of the night anyway,' she smiled to herself. Truth be told, their clandestine meetings held a certain glow of excitement for her. It was their secret life in the treehouse, and she wanted to savor it for as long as she could.

*****

During supper, as promised, Marguerite ate the 'truffles' she had found growing not far from the treehouse that afternoon. And, just as Roxton had promised, he did not.

In fact, all through the meal Marguerite kept saying how delicious they were, gloating that she was the only one in the treehouse enjoying this rare delicacy so far from England.

Veronica and Challenger had politely declined. Neither had confirmed whether they were indeed truffles or some poisonous, inedible mushroom. But both had suggested strongly to Marguerite it might be wise if she didn't partake of this 'rare delicacy' until they could do some research in the Layton's botany books.

Marguerite had told them patronizingly, "Maybe, I didn't mention it before, but I lived in France for several years and I recognize truffles when I see them."

All gave up the daunting task of trying to change Marguerite's mind, hoping she was right and dreading to know if she was wrong. It would mean a night filled with a groaning Marguerite, something no one wanted to experience, especially Roxton. 

And, most especially now they were enjoying their nights together in her room. Roxton had never known such pleasure. Those nights of intimacy spent with Marguerite brought out every ounce of emotion, every feeling of protective instinct in him. And, afterwards, as he held her close listening to her soft whimperings of satisfaction beneath him, he breathed with ease and contentment knowing this was right. 

He never failed to be enchanted with the way she gave herself to him each time. So fully and complete, so submissive to his needs and desires. He knew it wasn't in her nature to give of herself in any way to anyone. That she did it for him, made him love her all that much more. 

Of course, there were those few times when she took the lead, demanding he move this way or put his hands on certain intimate places. Or, when she mounted his body with her own and became his master for the night. Those times captivated his soul. He wanted to tell her he would do anything for her….die for her…or just simply live for her alone. 

This woman who shared his bed, who forged and shaped her body against his each night was the only right thing in his life. Since the unbearable accident taking the life of his brother, he had kept his life filled with external distractions, all the while feeling his soul being drained from his body. Until he met Marguerite Krux. Slowly, he had felt the presence of her aura filling his life with a new purpose. If he could only convince her that what they were doing didn't need to be kept secret. In fact, he was almost sure Challenger knew. 

*****

When Roxton was confident everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, he walked across the kitchen floor quietly making his way to Marguerite's room, still dressed but walking in his stocking feet through the stillness of the treehouse. 

Marguerite was lying on her bed, also still dressed, clutching her stomach. 

Ordinarily, by the time Roxton reached her room for the night, she was completely undressed, naked beneath the sheet, waiting for him. Seeing her still fully clothed gave him a dreaded sense something was wrong.

"Marguerite, you feeling okay?"

She quickly removed her hands from her stomach and sat up. "Of course, I'm okay," she said crossly. "You thought I'd be laying here groaning in pain, didn't you? You probably were hoping for it…just so you could say you were right and I was wrong."

"Don't be ridiculous, Marguerite. Of course, I don't want to see you in any kind of pain." He added playfully, "Although, I do enjoy hearing you say I was right and you were wrong."

Marguerite produced a weak smile at this latest snide remark. "Hmmph! Don't hold your breath, Lord Roxton." She fell forward suddenly holding her stomach. "Ohhh!," she blurted out.

"Marguerite! Tell me what's wrong?," he asked anxiously. 

"Oh, God…John. I feel sick." She turned her head away to avoid seeing the look of satisfaction she was sure covered his face. She needn't have worried. The look on John's face was that of sheer panic. Yes, he loved being right to her wrong, but not at the expense of her suffering. 

"Here, lie down. Do you feel sick to your stomach? Where does it hurt?" He was swooping over the bed, fluttering about her, smoothing her hair back from her moist forehead. "What can I do?"

"Maybe some tea. I'm feeling woozy."

"Stay in bed, and I'll get the tea. And, some cold water for your face. You feel warm."

"Hurry, John….hurry back," she pleaded.

Upstairs in the kitchen, John quickly heated the water and poured it through the strainer filled with the crushed chamomile tealeaves. As it cooled, he filled a small bowl with water and tossed in a clean cloth. Next he rushed downstairs to Challenger's laboratory, bringing back a bottle of white powder. With everything placed on the tray, he carried it to Marguerite's room, where he found her lightly dozing. Placing the tray on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed to lean over and gently wake her. 

"Sit up, sweetheart. Drink this. It'll help settle your stomach. I also found one of Challenger's concoctions to help with that nausea you're probably feeling right about now."

Marguerite moaned softly, holding her hand to her head as she rose up slowly from the bed she now shared with her lover. "What is it?" 

"Not sure what he calls it, but I know it …it'll help you….well…belch."

"John! Men belch, volcanoes belch! Women do not! They… They…burp….or they hiccup. But they definitely DO NOT belch." 

Resisting his first reflex, Roxton decided not to argue with her in her present state of illness, but merely nodded and smiled.

She swallowed some of the white powder, washing it down with the tea, grimacing with every swallow. 

While she was sitting up, he reached for their pillow, plumped it and set it back on the bed. "Well, whatever it is women do, lie back down and try to relax." 

He took the cup out of her hand, placed it on the table and began removing her boots to make her more comfortable.

"How do you know it'll work?" she asked suspiciously.

"Challenger mixed it up for us a few weeks ago….remember that morning you burned breakfast?"

Boots removed, he knelt one knee on the bed and began loosening her blouse and the belt constricting her waist.

"Ordinarily I'd have a comeback to that, but right now….well, just don't remind me of burned food." Lying back down on the newly freshened pillow she wailed, "Oh, John….I feel terrible. I've ruined our night together. You came in here for…and I…'

Satisfied she was comfortable for the night, he said, "Hush now….we've got the rest of our lives to enjoy each other's company." 

He rose from the bed and taking her hand, he said, I'll sleep in my room tonight, and I'll see you in the morning. Okay?"

Holding onto his hand, she pleaded, "Can't you sleep in here for a while? Maybe on the chaise?"

"If you don't think I'll disturb you. Although, I may not be able to get up in time to remove myself before the others wake up."

"Don't be cheeky, Roxton. I've never known you to wake up any later than the crack of dawn."

"Then close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll be right over here if you need me."

Marguerite turned over on her side, still holding her stomach but feeling decidedly better than before. John leaned over the night table to blow out the candle, and as the light expired he heard a sound coming from the direction of the pillow….something that sounded distinctly like a belch….or a hiccup…,or whatever it was women called it, followed by a deep sigh.

Not wanting to disturb her with an 'I told you so', he chuckled softly and said, "Good girl….that should make you feel better."

*****

Sometime during the night, Roxton was awakened by Marguerite talking in her sleep. He sat up to go to her and realized she was rambling in some foreign language. He listened closely to recognize the words.

His foreign language skills were rusty, but every now and then he was able to make out certain phrases in French. If he was interpreting it correctly, she was afraid of something and was begging someone to run away with her. He approached her bed, sitting on the edge, and as he took her hands in comfort she gripped them tightly. Still sleeping she muttered, "Je t'aime, Etienne. Je t'aime."

Even without being fluent in the romance language, he understood those words all too well. Puzzled, he withdrew his hands and stood up. He felt her forehead, and discovered her skin felt warm and slightly damp. Perhaps she was still feeling the effects of the mushrooms from the night before. 

He thought it best to leave her alone and let her sleep it off. He didn't particularly want to know why she had professed love for another man, even if she was hallucinating. He walked back to his room with a peculiar feeling that none of this bode well.

*****

Next morning, John strode into the main room still buckling his belt while heading for the gun rack in the foyer. Veronica and Challenger were already in the middle of breakfast, and both puzzled that Roxton was leaving the treehouse without at least a cup of coffee.

"John, where are you going in such a hurry? Don't you want breakfast this morning?", Veronica asked.

Roxton grimly shook his head as he kept arranging his gun holsters around his shoulders. "Thought I'd get an early start this morning. Didn't bring anything home yesterday….and if I had….Marguerite wouldn't have eaten those damned mushrooms, and she wouldn't have gotten sick last night."

He looked up when he realized the room had grown quiet. His last statement had inadvertently revealed he'd visited her room the night before.

"Yes….she was sick. Stomach pains, nausea…and an abundance of moans and groans. She woke me up clattering about the kitchen looking for something to relieve the pain." Like Marguerite, Roxton was good at thinking quickly to cover up any slip of the tongue.

Veronica and Challenger exchanged amused looks and smiles. 

"So, that's who I heard in the kitchen last night."

"And, in my lab."

"No, that was me in the lab, George….and in the kitchen. I sent her back to bed and made some tea, and I gave her some of that bicarb concoction from your lab, George. I hope that was okay?"

"Certainly, John. How's she feeling this morning?"

"Don't know. I left her when she fell asleep. Well, actually that's not true. I didn't leave right away. I stayed in the room to make sure she wasn't going to wake up in anymore pain."

"John, you seem edgy and distracted this morning. You're not still worried about her are you?"

Roxton looked furtively at Veronica, then back to Challenger. It was obvious he wanted to say more but not in front of Veronica.

"Okay! I can take a hint. Men talk…right? I'm just surprised the men in this treehouse like to hold on to their secrets every bit as much as the women," she said sarcastically. "I suppose if Malone were here instead of out on his soul-searching odyssey, he'd be shushing me away from the table as well."

She stood up to carry her plate to the counter behind the table.

"Sorry, Veronica. I didn't mean to….."

"Don't worry about it, Roxton. With Marguerite probably spending the day in bed, there's lots to keep me busy this morning. Like…the vegetable garden. Those little angels don't grow on their own."

With Veronica safely out of sight and earshot, Roxton continued.

"George, I know Marguerite confides things in you that she doesn't with me. Last night she woke me up talking in her sleep. Talking in French. She was afraid of something…and she was talking to someone called Etienne. She kept saying she loved him."

Roxton poured out all the details of what she had spoken in her sleep in her confused state….and concluded with, "Has she ever mentioned an Etienne to you?

"Not that I can recall. And, you say she was talking in French?"

"I know she lived in France for a time, but has she ever talked about knowing someone called Etienne?"

Challenger had to smile at Roxton's obvious flustered state. He was beginning to repeat himself. 

"Well, she did talk about working in Paris at one time. Maybe, it's someone from her past." Seeing Roxton's downcast eyes, he put a reassuring hand on the hunter's shoulder. "John, it doesn't mean anything, I'm sure. The mushrooms probably gave her hallucinogenic nightmares."

"I'm not so egotistical to think I've been the only man in her life, George. But I am bothered to think she would call out to him in an unconscious state. Especially if she's afraid of something. I would think it would be someone she loves now she would call out for."

"That is curious, I have to admit. But then our Marguerite could never be considered a dull woman. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, John. Put it out of your mind. All you should be concerned about right now is what transpires between the two of you, there in her room in the privacy of the night." 

Roxton's eyes widened, and his mouth opened as if to protest. 

"Oh…now…don't look so surprised, John. You didn't really think you were keeping those nightly trysts a secret, did you?"

With his face beginning to redden, Roxton replied, "On that note, I think it best I go hunting. Our food stock is getting low. Maybe if I had been more successful yesterday, she wouldn't have eaten those poisonous mushrooms last night. Oh, and Challenger, do me a favor. Don't mention this conversation to Marguerite. And, especially the part about your knowing about….well you know…"

"Why John, are you blushing?" Challenger chuckled.

Roxton laughed quickly. "That would be a first, wouldn't it?" 

*****

Hours later, a very groggy Marguerite still dressed in the clothes she'd slept in the night before stumbled into the main room. Calling out and finding no one upstairs, she finally wandered down to Challenger's lab. 

"George, where is everyone?" Still feeling weak, she reached for the nearest chair.

"Easy does it, Marguerite. John told us you had quite a bout with food poisoning last night. It had to be those mushrooms you ate. We tried to warn you about the possibility they were hallucinogenic."

"I do remember…all of you warned me. Speaking of, where's Roxton? I know he was here earlier."

Challenger's face shifted downward to avoid looking directly in Marguerite's eyes and said, "Uhmmm…he's out hunting. Should be back in a couple of hours or so." He quickly turned back to his lab books.

"George, what's wrong? Don't shake you head at me, I know when something's wrong. Is he really out hunting? He's not sick too, is he?"

"No….no…" he said placing his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back onto the chair. "He's just fine, Marguerite. I wouldn't lie to you about that. Uhmm…it's just that…."

"George, if you don't tell me what's happened, right now….I promise to make your life miserable until you do."

Knowing she spoke the truth, Challenger reluctantly repeated what Roxton had told him about her feverish rantings in French the night before and how she called out another man's name in her sleep. 

"I said what??!!"

"You said you loved this Etienne. And, that you'd been looking everywhere for him. You kept saying 'don't leave me again'."

"But I don't know anyone with that name. Oh my God….and Roxton heard me?" She stood up and bolted for the stairs, weaving slightly as she went.

"What do you think you're doing, young woman? According to John you had a very bad time of it last night. You're still lightheaded and….."

"I'm going after him. I have to talk to him. I can't let him think I love….someone else." She shook off Challenger's hand and walked quickly to the stairs, unsteadily but quickly nonetheless.

Challenger, not far behind, caught up with her in the main room. "You should be back in bed recuperating," he scolded. 

He firmly gripped her shoulders and guided her into a chair at the main table. "Now, listen to me young lady….Roxton will be home soon. If you must be out of bed, then sit here and wait for him." 

She started to rise from the chair. Challenger pointed a fatherly finger in the direction of the chair. 

"Sit, Marguerite! Whatever you need to tell him, can wait. We can't risk losing you out there from another attack of whatever had hold of you last night."

Knowing Challenger was right, Marguerite for one of those few times in her life, conceded. Dread gripped her heart at the thought of John hearing her say she loved another man. A man she didn't know….had never known. Why had she spoken those words? And, for John to have heard was unforgivable. 

She'd just found peace and happiness with this man….this man who had opened up a kalaidescope of emotions inside her. She'd waited all her life to find someone to trust, trust with no reservations, someone to give her whole self to. And, finally….she'd found him. This couldn't be happening. Not now. 

'Please, John…hurry back. I have to talk to you.'

*****

An hour passed, along with a dozen trips to the balcony watching for the absent hunter, then Marguerite saw him entering the elevator. She waited those few seconds after he entered the treehouse for him to place his rifle in the gun rack, then she ran to him, nearly knocking him over as she threw her arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're back…you were gone so long. I've been waiting for you….I need to talk to you. George told me what happened last night." 

The words were rushing out faster now, as though by saying everything faster than usual, he had to believe her. As she talked, she gripped his arm tightly. 

"…how I talked in my sleep and babbled the whole time in French and….how I called you another man's name. John, I don't know an Etienne. It's you I love. You know that….don't you? You don't believe I love anyone named Etienne. It was you in my dream last night. And, I don't know why I called you another man's name. You have to believe me, John. I know that I've lied to you before. But I swear I'm not lying this time. You have to believe me this time, John."

Roxton took hold of her arms and pushed her back to get a closer look at her face. 

"Whoa…..slow down, Marguerite. First of all, you shouldn't be out of bed. And, second, if you say you don't know this person….then of course I believe you. But you have to admit, it's curious that it would be me in your dream, but that my name was another man's. I know you were hallucinating last night, so…I don't know…maybe it's a name you heard once or read in a book." 

He looked down at her glistening eyes and realized how important it was to her that he believe her.

"Of course, I believe you," he assured her. "But, it's over now. We don't need to talk about it anymore."

"You're not still angry?"

"I was never angry…just…," he shook his head searching for the right words, "…wounded at hearing the woman I love call out for another man."

Her eyes welled up again as she drew in her breath shortly, and her forehead began to crinkle again. He knew tears were imminent.

"No, no. Don't cry again." He held her close, nuzzling his chin in her hair. 

One of the many things he had fallen in love with was her independency and strength, her determination to control every situation, never giving an inch. But there was also a part of him that loved watching her in the throes of her own vulnerabilities. Not that he wanted to see her in pain. Quite the contrary. But seeing her tears and hearing the trembling in her voice just now gave him the sublime feeling that she needed him as much as he needed her, an emotion she rarely voiced much less displayed. 

Stroking her face with one hand and her hair with the other, he held her face up to his. "Would it make you smile if I told you I brought home a nice plump bird for supper? Veronica's downstairs dressing it right now. No more fried raptor meat."

Marguerite groaned and held her stomach. She had forgotten about the waves of nausea still attacking her body. "Right now, food is the farthest thing from my mind." 

In typical Marguerite Krux fashion, she waved her hands back and forth and said, "Now that all this….Etienne….and dream…talk is settled, think I'll just go back to bed for the rest of the day."

He bent over to kiss the top of her head before she hastily retreated to her room. "Ah, now that sounds more like my girl. Things are back to normal." 

At least, he hoped they were. Hearing her call out another man's name last night was the same as being pummeled in the stomach. The light in his heart had gone out when she said she loved another man. But, if it had been Lord Roxton in her dream, why was she calling out to someone else?

*****

Later that night, when everyone had settled in their respective rooms, John was busy wrapping his arms around Marguerite in their bed. Foregoing their nightly lovemaking for the sake of Marguerite's weakened stomach, John reassured her it was enough to just hold her while they slept. 

He held her tightly under his chin and rested his lips on her temple, needing to feel her skin against his as they both drifted into a deep, satisfying slumber.

*****

Hours later, John was awakened for the second night that week by Marguerite mumbling in her sleep. Since they had been sleeping together, he usually slept solid, hardly waking for any noise. Another pleasant outcome from spending his nights with Marguerite. But, again she had awakened him by talking in her sleep. 

"Marguerite, wake up." He gently shook her shoulders. Placing his hand on her cheek, he stroked her skin till her eyes fluttered open.

"John? I was dreaming about you again," she said sleepily. As she looked up into his face bent over hers, the pained look in his eyes told her something was wrong.

"Oh, no….I wasn't talking in French again, was I?" Sitting up, she held her head, shaking it as though trying to deny she'd repeated the same actions as the night before.

"Marguerite, you may not be fully over the mushroom poisoning. You're still having delusional dreams…..or nightmares. Anyway, it'll be dawn soon and it's probably a good idea if I go back to my room before the others wake up."

"John….you don't believe me do you? You're upset. John, it WAS you in my dream. You were with me and we were running away from someone or something. And…..we were wearing strange clothes. Like something from the past."

Seeing the astonished look on John's face, she couldn't tell if he was accepting this latest explanation of why she had called out another man's name again. It was outlandish even to her, but it was true.

"Marguerite, right now I don't know what I believe. I just know you were very sick last night….having unexplained dreams and then you have the same dreams again tonight. I think we both could benefit right now from a good night's sleep." 

He rose from the bed, reaching for his trousers draped over the chair beside the bed. 

"John, you will come back tomorrow night, won't you? You wouldn't let this…stop us from…"

Sitting back onto the bed, he gathered her into his arms and said, "I promise you, this ….us…..isn't going to end. Put that worry out of your mind," he said rocking her back and forth as one does with a child asking for forgiveness. 

"I love you, Marguerite. I've been searching for you my whole life. The minute I clapped eyes on you, I knew I'd found you. I felt the connection that night, felt it was right. It took almost three years to convince you it was right. You don't think I'd let you go now, do you?"

Shaking her head, Marguerite barely whispered, "No. But John what's happening?"

"We'll figure it out in the morning. You get back in bed and get some sleep. I promise you we'll find out why you're having these dreams."

He kissed her soundly on the lips and pulled the cover sheet back over her arms. Taking one last lingering look he returned to his room.

*****

Next morning, a red-eyed Marguerite entered the kitchen to see the others had started breakfast without her. 

"Sorry, I slept longer than usual this morning," she said slipping quietly into her usual chair at the table.

Roxton rose to pour her a cup of coffee, her favorite beverage since Malone had introduced it to her a year or so ago. As he poured, she turned her face up to say, "Thank you," and their eyes met briefly. He could tell from the red lines lacing through her beautiful gray eyes she had shed a few tears after he had left her room. 

It bothered him to think of her weeping alone, and the thought that he should have stayed with her last night brought on another strong wave of guilt. She'd already weathered so many storms alone; he shouldn't have left her alone to fight another struggle without him. 

Since meeting her three years ago, almost from the beginning, and then along the way a feeling had surfaced, a feeling deep within himself, that it was why he'd been born… to protect this woman he had come to love and cherish. He silently vowed to never leave her side again.

Marguerite and Roxton continued to eat their breakfast in silence, neither giving in to the desire to look at the other. It was obvious to both Veronica and Challenger something was amiss between the two lovers.

Veronica ventured first to break the unnatural silence at the table.

"So, Marguerite….feel like doing some chores today? You should feel well rested after your day in bed yesterday."

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "If I must. What's on the agenda today? Not grunging around in the dirt with those little green plants, surely?"

"No, something better. Laundry!"

"Oh noooooo…..maybe I should stay in bed another day," she said in her characteristic whining voice when household chores were mentioned. "I was very weak yesterday you know."

"I don't think so, Marguerite. The clothes have been piling up the last few days. So don't even think about hiding in your room today."

Marguerite sighed in dejected resolution, and rose to follow the blonde huntress as she went from bedroom to bedroom collecting a myriad of dirty clothes. By the time they reached their destination at the base of the treehouse, Marguerite had resigned herself to contributing to the weekly chore of making sure everyone had clean shirts and socks. 

Veronica set about sorting the various pieces of apparel, mostly tossing items such as underwear and socks to her companion laundress.

"Veronica! I have enough already!"

"Well, here are a few more pieces I just know you'll want to be responsible for keeping clean." Veronica giggled as she threw a pair of Roxton's socks to her friend.

As they flew into Marguerite's face, she jumped back catching them and flinging them on the table. "Yehhhkkkkk!!! How do you think he gets these so dirty?" She gingerly picked them up and threw them into the soapy water with the rest of her lover's clothes.

"Probably during those times he walks through the treehouse at night in his stocking feet." She added slyly, "You know….those times he thinks everyone is asleep except for you and him."

A delicate shade of pink crept across Marguerite's cheeks as she realized their secret meetings weren't so secret after all.

Raising her head proudly to full attention, she said, "Why Veronica….I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes you do. Really, Marguerite you're as bad as Roxton when it comes to covering up your nightly visits. Don't look so shocked. I've known for some time. All those moaning noises coming from your room in the middle of the night…a dead giveaway."

Thrusting her share of the laundry into the soapy water and scrubbing with a vengeance, Marguerite declared, "I swear, I'm going to gag that man from now on."

"Actually, Marguerite, those noises sounded more like they were coming from you."

"Veronica!!!" In a burst of spontaneity, she splashed some of the soapy water across the table to land on her companion's blonde hair. 

They both exploded into peals of laughter, something that was not lost on Roxton watching and listening from Challenger's lab.

*****

"It's good to hear Marguerite laughing again. I've been worried about her the past couple of days."

"How so, John? She's not still having bad dreams, is she?"

"It hurts to admit it, but yes. She had the same dream again last night, and from what she told me it's almost the same one she had a couple nights ago. Except this time she said they seemed to be dressed in clothes from the past. What do you make of that?"

"That is strange. John, I've been giving this some thought and I'm sure I don't have all the answers, but perhaps she's dreaming of a past life."

"Past life? I don't follow you. You're not talking about a reincarnation experience, are you? Marguerite's already told me about the dream she had when we first came to the plateau. The one where she's the reincarnate of a Druid priestess. You're not talking about that are you?"

"Not of that particular dream, but it is a possibility she's experienced many past lives. The Eastern religions have a firm belief our souls keep returning to earth until we reach perfection." Challenger scratched his beard thoughtfully. "For all the wonderful things our Marguerite is, I'd hardly call her perfect yet."

Roxton gave Challenger one of those looks that indicated displeasure at someone other than himself criticizing his Marguerite.

"Sorry, old boy. I seemed to have forgotten that to you… she is perfect."

"Well, let's just say….perfect for me."

"You love her very much, don't you John?"

"It's that obvious, is it? I can't imagine my life without her in it. I knew the first night I met her there in your study, back in London. Remember that night, George? The woman damn near shot me in the knees."

Challenger chuckled at the painful memory for Roxton. "I believe she was aiming higher than that, John."

"I knew at that moment she'd always be in my life. That there'd never come a time when I'd be without her. I want her now as much as I ever did that first night. To hear her call out to another man and say she loves him…..well it's just too much to bear. I have to resolve this, George. Anything you can think of….." Roxton's words trailed off as his voice started to falter.

Challenger gave him a fatherly pat on the back. "Okay, John….we'll think of something. If only we had the right ingredients to mix up a dose of sodium pentathol, maybe we could coax out the truth of this matter."

"The truth serum? That's a little drastic isn't it?"

Challenger stopped short from his pacing. "Wait a minute. Maybe we don't need drugs. There may be another way."

Inspired by the professor's enthusiasm, John replied, "Anything, George. Anything to end these dreams. What do you have in mind?"

"Hypnotism!"

"Hypnotism?? You mean all that waving of a watch in front of someone's face? Not sure if I put much store in it. I mean….do you know how it's done? Have you ever hypnotized anyone before?"

"Not me personally, but I've watched it done many times. My old friend Harry Houdini dabbled in it some and I've been to my share of sessions. Rather successful ones at that."

"If you think it will get to the bottom of these bizarre dreams she keeps having, I say let's go for it. But I don't know if we can convince Marguerite."

"Roxton, old boy…..we're talking about Marguerite Krux here. Believer and performer of séances. Talking with spirits from the other world is her specialty. I don't think we need worry about her turning down this opportunity."

Challenger laughed at his own last remark hoping to bring Roxton out of his dejection. 

Remembering the successful séance Marguerite had performed some months ago, John's mood lifted and he joined the professor's laughing spirit. "You may be right. But we're also talking about Marguerite Krux, possessor and keeper of secrets. She may not want us prying into any of her lives, past or present. Let's just hope it works."

*****

Marguerite walked out of the elevator, sopping wet from the 'water fight' as Roxton and Challenger were leaving the lab.

Wrapping a towel around her wet hair, Marguerite asked, "What are you two laughing about?" 

"Marguerite, I think I may have come up with a solution to the strange dreams you've been experiencing. Have you ever been hypnotized?"

"Hypnotized? No. But I've seen it done before. Mostly stage hypnotism though. You know, where volunteers are asked for from the audience. Always seemed to me that it was a set up. Hate to confess it, but I've always wondered if I was a suitable candidate for it."

"Well my dear, from what I understand, there are only three qualifications to be receptive to the practice. One you must possess a strong desire to be hypnotized, two you must be sober, and three you need to be above average intelligence. Now, if I'm not mistaken you qualify on all three points."

"Why, thank you George….a girl can always use another compliment." She looked from Challenger's face to Roxton's and she couldn't tell which was more nervous about her answer. "Okay, I'll agree on one condition." Waving a pointed finger in warning. "That you only ask questions about my dream." Shrugging she continued. "A girl has to keep some secrets to herself, afterall. Well, how do we start? When do we start?" 

Roxton wasn't sure if he should be pleased or not. Just how many secret past lives had she had. And, what would they discover about the one in the dream. He almost called a halt to the whole thing. But seeing Challenger's excited face and Marguerite's near relieved demeanor decided it wouldn't hurt to have at least one of his love's secrets revealed. Challenger was speaking again. "Since all parties are agreed, I say let's start right after supper." Whether Roxton still had reservations or not, the die was cast....hypnotism it was!

*****

During supper that night, Marguerite's dreams and the reason for the tension at that morning's breakfast, as well as Challenger's solution, were all explained to Veronica in great detail. She understood now why Roxton had been so distracted yesterday and had maneuvered to speak to Challenger alone. But at least Roxton and Marguerite were back on track tonight. She was sure she'd seen them holding hands beneath the table.

In spite of the appetizing meal Veronica had prepared, no one but her seemed to have much of an appetite that night. Her three housemates were too caught up in the upcoming event of Challenger's latest experiment, made even that much more thrilling because it involved one of their own this time.

Picking at her food, Marguerite only managed to eat a few bites before she finally said, "Sorry, Veronica….supper was delicious, but afraid I'm not very hungry tonight." 

She rose from her chair and Roxton's inbred instincts as a gentleman surfaced because he stood as well. They exchanged smiles and seeing the worried look in his eyes she quickly said, "I'm all right, John. Really. I'm just going to my room and change clothes."

Roxton's eyes followed her and only turned back to the others when she had disappeared from sight.

"John, Veronica…while Marguerite's not in the room, I need to go over a couple of points with the both of you."

"Like what?" asked Veronica.

"Well, for one during the session you two must keep a dead silence. She mustn't be distracted by any outward noises. She must concentrate entirely on my voice or this may not work. Second, and this is the tricky part, for us to determine the hypnotism was successful, it's usual practice to give a post-hypnotic suggestion."

"My parents told me about the concept of hypnotism but…a post hypnotic suggestion? What does that mean exactly?"

"To put it as simply as I can, Veronica…I instruct her to do something when she wakes up at the mention of a certain word or suggestion that she wouldn't ordinarily enjoy doing. Nothing immoral or illegal, mind you. Just something she wouldn't ordinarily think about doing in the normal course of her day." 

"How about……I know….how about suggesting that she loves doing laundry, especially Roxton's?"

Roxton shocked did a double take. "Veronica….I never thought of you as having a cruel streak!"

She couldn't help but laugh at Roxton's disbelieving face. "Well, it's not immoral or illegal. But it is something she finds distasteful." She leaned into Roxton's face teasingly. "Even if they are yours, Roxton. I mean if she can profess to wanting to do the laundry, then we must know whatever comes out will be the truth."

"She has a good point, John. And, we do want to get to the bottom of these dreams."

"George, please don't take this the wrong way…but are you sure you know what you're doing? I mean….we're talking about Marguerite's mind here."

"Don't worry, John. I've seen this done many times. It's nothing more than a means to activating the subconscious mind, the seat of our memory bank. In the scientific circle, hypnosis is regarded as one of the most common ways of exploring past lives."

Seeing the worried look still on Roxton's face, he added. "John, she means a lot to me too. I wouldn't do anything that I thought would bring her harm, physically or emotionally. You trust me, don't you?"

Roxton patted Challenger's shoulder and nodded, grateful to know his Marguerite was in safe hands.

Footsteps were heard on the stairs, and as Marguerite reentered the room, the sight of her literally took Roxton's breath away. From the plain white blouse and jodhpurs she'd spent the day in, she'd changed into his favorite outfit, her lavender blouse and khaki skirt. And, as an extra embellishment, she'd loosened her single braid so that her hair now cascaded in soft curls around her face and over her shoulders, a sight that always caused his heart to catch.

While Veronica circled the room lighting candles to create the mood, Challenger set about the task of choosing the most comfortable chair, the one with the side arms and placed a soft cushion against the back.

Roxton followed Marguerite as she approached the chair, taking her hand in his. "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to. I'm truly not upset over any of this."

"John, you're sweet to say that, but you don't lie very well. I saw the look on your face last night when I told you about my dream."

With her free hand, she stroked the back of his neck and plucked at his shirt collar. Her touch at this sensitive area caused that familiar emotion of love and protection to surface in his heart.

Gazing into his eyes, she said, "You have to be hurt over this. I can only imagine how I'd be feeling if the roles were reversed."

"The only pain I'm feeling is knowing that you cried alone last night."

"Marguerite, we're ready," Challenger called out. "Come sit down, take a few deep breaths and try to relax."

Marguerite settled in and Roxton pulled up the nearest chair next to hers, still holding her hand.

Challenger smiled patronizingly and said, "John, I don't think this will work with your being so close to her. It might be best if you sit across the room."

Roxton reluctantly withdrew his hand from Marguerite's and moved his chair as instructed across the room next to Veronica's.

Marguerite stole one last look at John, smiling nervously but hopeful that this latest inspired idea of Challenger's would produce some answers to her confusing dreams.

"Marguerite, I want you to put your hands on the chair arms and try to keep them there until you're fully under." In a soft and monotone voice, he continued, "Take some deep breaths, cleansing breaths…..breathe in….let the relaxation flow through your body."

Marguerite did as instructed, breathing in….breathing out.

"Keep your eyes on me, Marguerite. I want you to concentrate on your breathing and the relaxation you're beginning to feel. Soon your eyelids will become heavy. And, as you begin to relax you will have a feeling of well being. Soon you'll begin to experience a sinking feeling inside your body."

Watching Marguerite as Challenger spoke in a soft and calming voice, Roxton could almost see her body going listless and limp. Whatever he was doing, seemed to be working.

"Can you feel your eyes getting heavy? Can you feel your body relaxing? Let your breathing relax your body, Marguerite. This relaxation should be reaching every part of your body by now."

Marguerite's eyes had already closed and she could feel her body beginning to go limp. Her arms and hands were relaxing. She could hear Challenger speaking again….still in that quiet steady tone.

"I'm going to start counting from ten to one so that by the time I reach one, you will be completely relaxed….and you'll be so very comfortable….so very rested."

Slowly and softly he started to count. "Ten…you're sitting comfortably in your chair now, feeling nothing but restful. Nine….you're starting to feel a heavy feeling in your legs. Eight….this heavy feeling is now in your arms. Seven….your eyes are getting drowsier."

Roxton was on the edge of his chair. He still had reservations about this method of probing her subconscious. It felt almost as though he were invading her private thoughts. Thoughts that perhaps he nor anyone else had the right to know.

"Six…by now your mind is beginning to feel drowsier. Five…you should feel a warm, soothing sensation spreading through your body. Four…one part of your mind is already asleep, but you will continue to hear every word I say. Three…You're not interested in anything but relaxation and what it can do for you. Two…your face is completely relaxed now. One….you feel yourself sinking further…further….into a deep….sound….state of relaxation." 

'No turning back now', Roxton thought as he kept his gaze focused on Marguerite's face.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly as Challenger took both her hands in his to test for limpness. Her hands were completely in his control, and he laid them gently on her lap.

Challenger quietly pulled up a chair in front of her, taking her hands again in his. "I'm going to talk to you now, Marguerite and as I talk you're going to remain relaxed. In a few minutes, I'm going to ask you to imagine a scene, and as you imagine it you'll go into a deeper relaxation…. you'll stay drowsy. Do you understand?"

Slowly Marguerite nodded her head.

"Can you tell me where are you right now?"

"I'm in the library of a treehouse."

"Do you know what your name is?"

"No, not my real name."

"What name do you go by?"

"I use the name Marguerite Krux."

"Have you ever been hypnotized before Marguerite?"

She shook her head, "No, never."

"Before we go any further, I'm going to suggest that when you awaken from this, you'll find you've developed a….uh….a passion for doing laundry." Challenger looked in Veronica's direction and with his eyes asked for her approval.

Veronica silently mouthed the words, "…..Roxton's."

Roxton inwardly recoiled from the idea of so descriptive a suggestion. Challenger nodded and continued. "…..and especially for Lord Roxton's ….uh….clothes. Do you understand, Marguerite?"

"I understand."

Roxton wasn't sure if he'd be able to face her afterwards. He felt guilty at the amusement he was experiencing imagining the woman he loved having 'a passion' for sudsing out his dirty socks. But Veronica was right. If she did express a love for doing this chore she found so abhorrent, then this experiment could be considered a success, and they would finally know the truth.

The unpleasant task of the post-hypnotic suggestion out of the way, Challenger continued the questioning.

"Now, Marguerite you mentioned living in a treehouse. Where is this treehouse?"

"On a plateau somewhere in South America."

"Where did you live before?"

"London."

"And, before?"

"Shanghai."

"And, before that?"

"Paris."

"So you have lived in France?"

"Yes."

"Any place other than Paris?"

'No, just Paris."

"I want to ask you about the men in your life, Marguerite. Do you know a Lord John Roxton?"

With her eyes still closed, a brief smile passed over her lips. "Yes."

"Ned Malone?"

"Yes."

"Ever know someone named Etienne?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay…now, I want you to concentrate, Marguerite. You've been experiencing some disturbing dreams the last couple of nights. I want to take you back to those dreams. I want to put you in those dreams. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can try," she said meekly.

"Good! Remember, earlier I told you I would have you imagine a certain scene….and that scene would make you more relaxed. Well, I want you to imagine there is a window looking out into your dream. The window is opening. Your mind is floating through that window. Take your time. We have as much time as you need."

Marguerite's body shrank backward into the chair, and she withdrew her hands from Challenger's.

From Marguerite's frightened reaction to returning to her dream, Roxton began to worry that maybe this had not been such a good idea after all. But he also feared it might do more harm by stopping the process at this point.

"Are you through the window yet? Does anything look familiar to you?"

With a tight mouth and a pained expression, Marguerite nodded her head.

"Where are you now?"

"We're in the market."

"The market? What kind of market?"

"The vendor's market…."

Her voice seemed to have changed…softened and timid somehow. She wasn't talking with her usual self-assured confidence.

"Where is this vendor's market?"

"Rouen."

"Rouen, France?"

She nodded her head.

"Is that where you live?"

"No, our farm's not far from Rouen. Just outside Croisett."

"Croisett."

"Yes."

"And, what is your name?"

"Claire LaValle."

"What year is it, Claire?"

"1721."

Challenger and Roxton exchanged surprised looks and Veronica's mouth dropped open. After a short pause, Challenger resumed the questioning.

"You said earlier, 'we'. Who's there with you?"

"Etienne."

"Who is this Etienne to you?"

"He's my husband."

Roxton rose suddenly from his chair at the sound of the word 'husband'. Challenger quietly waved him back down, shaking his head.

"You look troubled, my dear. What's happening right now?"

"We're arguing. I keep asking him…no, begging him to leave now. We have to leave now. They're on their way. We don't have much time left."

"Who's on their way? Why do you have to leave?"

"The soldiers from the garrison. They're on their way. I can't let him take the blame for something I did. It was my fault. I can't convince him to run."

"What was your fault, Claire? Why is Etienne taking the blame for something you did?"

"He left me alone at the market stall. He wasn't gone long. Just long enough for one of the soldiers guarding the square to…"

She stopped and hesitated before continuing. "He must have mistaken my intentions. All I did was smile at him. After that……well, he must have thought I wanted…. I couldn't get him to leave. I kept pushing him away and begging him to leave. I must have pushed him too hard because he stumbled and fell. I heard his head hit something sharp…a stone maybe. When he didn't get back up, I ran to find my husband and when we got back to where he'd fallen…..he was dead.

"What did you do then?"

"I wanted to run, to go back home…to our farm where we'd be safe. Etienne said they would only follow us and that they would arrest both of us. The only way out was for him to take the blame. If they arrested me, he didn't want to even think about what they would do to me before the trial."

Her voice began to crack, as though her throat was parched. " I begged him not to take the blame. I was scared, but I couldn't let him be punished for something I'd done. He wouldn't listen to me. He's always been stubborn that way."

She stopped suddenly clutching her throat as though to stay the tears. Roxton was on the verge of going to her, and to ask…no demand….Challenger stop immediately. It was obvious she was reliving something painful, the very incident that had probably prompted her strange dreams. It still didn't explain, though why she had kept insisting it was his face in her dreams but with 'her husband's' name.

Challenger poured a glass of water and placed it in her trembling hands.

She gratefully accepted the glass and drank the contents down quickly. 

"Do you feel better? Can you go on?"

Marguerite nodded, and Challenger took back the glass. She'd come this far, she had to finish the story.

"He wouldn't listen to me. When the guards finally showed up, I'd barely had time to hold him for one last time."

"What happened after he was arrested?"

"There was a trial the next day. If you could call it that", she added ruefully. "It lasted no more than an hour and of course he was found guilty." 

Her next statement was said so softly it was barely audible. "They hanged him the next morning."

She paused to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "It was my fault. Etienne had told me to be friendlier with the people in the market. That it would be good for business. We'd even argued about it that morning. I always wanted to stay home on market days…and he always wanted me there with him. If I'd only stayed home that day. He did it for me. He took the blame to protect me. He shouldn't have done that."

Challenger was satisfied this painfully told encounter had to be a remembrance from a past life, but it still didn't explain why the man in her dream had John's face, but a different name. One last question and perhaps the mystery would be solved.

"Claire, did you and your husband have any children?"

Roxton understood immediately why Challenger was asking about children. It might be possible he and Marguerite were descendents of this Claire and Etienne. That would explain the face in the dream being his. 

Even if they were distantly related there was at least a 200 year span…long enough for what they were doing now not to be considered improper. It would also explain much that still puzzled him…like why there was such a strong feeling of connection with the woman he shared his nights with. And why he felt the need to keep her safe. Why he loved her beyond words.

"No. We wanted children, but were never blessed with them." 

Roxton released a deep breath of relief. 

After a brief pause, she added, "I've always been haunted by the guilt of being responsible for my husband's death. I'm the one who should have been punished. And, not having children was another…well just another regret… of that particular lifetime."

Challenger repeated, "That particular lifetime? Why do you put it that way, Claire?"

"Because it's not the first life time we've been together."

"Not the first time? I don't understand. How many times have you and Etienne been together?"

"At least….hmmmm…. five times that I can recall."

"Before the 1700's?"

"Several times before that and twice since."

"And each time with the same person?"

She nodded. "Yes, always with the same person. Different names, different places… but always the same person."

"How do you know they were the same person?"

"They always have the same face."

"What about you? Do you always look the same?"

"Yes. But that's not the way we recognize each other. It's what's inside. When we return it's our souls that search for each other."

"Soul mates?"

"I suppose you could call it that."

"And, do you always find each other, each time your souls return?"

"Not always. There was one lifetime we failed to meet." Her face turned ashen. "It's difficult to think about that one. We both lived such miserable lives that time."

"And, what about this lifetime….the one you're currently living…as Marguerite Krux? Have you found this other soul this time?"

"It's taken a while. Longer than usual. But yes….we finally found each other."

"Can you tell me what his name is…in this lifetime?"

With a contented look, she smiled and answered, "Lord John Richard Roxton."

The room took on an eerie silence with her last words. Challenger looked at Roxton's face for some kind of sign that he was satisfied with the answers she'd given. Even his old wizened heart softened when he saw the glistening in John's eyes. 

Challenger nodded at Roxton and swallowed hard, then continued. "Claire, I want to take you back through the window back to the present time. 1925." He paused. "I want you to feel yourself floating back through the window."

She hesitated which caused Challenger to ask, "You want to come back, don't you Claire?"

"I-I…."

Challenger took her hands in his again. "Claire, what are you afraid of? Why would you want to stay in the past? Don't you know there is someone on this side waiting for you…..someone who loves you very much? Can you tell me why you're so afraid?"

"I'm responsible for Etienne's death. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's."

"Claire, he chose to protect you. He chose to die for you. It was his choice, not yours. You mustn't feel guilt over this. From what you say, there wasn't anything you could have said or done to have prevented what happened. There are other people on this side that need you too. Let's bring you back, Claire….back to 1925. I want you to imagine yourself floating back through the window now. And, when you're through the window, I want you to close it behind you. Do you understand, my dear?"

"Yes."

"I assure you, you'll not regret coming back. Are you through the window, yet?"

"Yes."

"Is the window closed?"

"Yes."

"Who are you now?"

Regaining her usual confident demeanor, she answered, "Marguerite Krux."

"And where do you live?"

"In a treehouse on a plateau somewhere in South America."

"Now, Marguerite I'm going to count back to one starting with ten and when I reach ten you will awaken and the guilt you've felt from the past will be gone. You needn't fear any kind of retribution in this life or any other. Do you understand, Marguerite?"

"Yes."

"Ten……..nine…….eight……..you're starting to wake up…….seven……six……..you can feel yourself starting to come out of your deep relaxation……five…….four…….three……you're almost completely awake now…….two………one. Wake up, Marguerite." 

Roxton was by her side before Challenger reached "three", taking her hand in his. He wanted to be certain the first person she saw was him.

She stood to face him and asked anxiously, "John, is everything okay?"

He nodded reassuringly and said softly, "Everything is just fine now."

"George, did I do all right?"

"You did just fine Marguerite. You shouldn't be bothered by any more nightmares." Challenger sank into the nearest chair and sighed. "Well, my work is done here….for now."

"What happened? You are going to tell me what happened aren't you?

"I believe I'll leave that up to John. You and he have a lot to talk about, my dear."

Turning back to Roxton, she asked, "What's he talking about John? "

He curled his arm protectively around her slender waist. "Let's go to your room and I'll tell you everything."

Taken aback by his boldness in front of Challenger, she pulled away and whispered, "John….uh…maybe….we should…."

"Marguerite….I've news for you. Challenger knows."

She smiled pathetically. "Oh dear….so does Veronica."

Veronica stopped them before they reached the stairs. The evening wasn't over yet. 

Smirking, she said, "Before you two…ahem…retire to your room Marguerite, I hate to remind you but we didn't finish the… laundry… today."

"Laundry?" Marguerite's face took on a sudden look of exultation.

"Laundry!! John, don't you have some shirts that need washing? I just feel in the mood to get my hands into some sudsy water."

Arm still around her waist, John led her back to her room…..their room…..listening sheepishly and guiltily as Marguerite expounded on the merits of doing laundry, especially his.

Proof enough for everyone, even Veronica, that tonight's experiment had been successful.

*******

Back in their room, while sitting up in bed with the pillow propped behind them, John repeated in detail all that had been revealed during the last hour.

"So, what you're telling me John, is that you and I have been together before, in past lives? That we're….like…soul mates?"

"Sounds incredible, doesn't it? But it makes perfect sense. The connection we felt that first night, the strong desire to be together."

"But John, if we've been together so many times before and in so many different places, why did I only dream about the one in France….and such an unpleasant one?"

"Probably because of all that talk about truffles and your living in France. But more than likely because the 'truffles' were really some inedible type of mushroom. They had to have brought on the hallucinations."

"Oh, please. Don't remind me."

"Well………". His face had taken on a gloating look.

"Go ahead, say it. I know you want to. You were right, I was wrong. And, I should have listened to you."

"You said it, not me. I'm just here to agree with you." 

She pulled away from him and gave him 'the look', that look that always succeeded in stopping him short.

"I thought you'd be pleased….that I'm agreeing with you?" He pulled her back to him. "Come here now….after all we've been through….all those centuries we've been together…." He began to nuzzle her neck while pulling her closer and closer. "….all those times we've searched for each other….." She was beginning to soften. "…..you don't want to be mad at me, your guardian angel…now do you?" he teased.

"Well…..", she said unbuttoning his shirt, "…since you've been my protector all these years, maybe it's time I returned the favor." Removing the braces from his shoulders, she opened the shirt to reveal the smooth sun-bronzed skin on his chest. Seductively and slowly with her lips she began working her way up his body….one soft kiss after the other.

John's eyes sparkled as a tremor of excitement and anticipation flooded his body.

"Tonight, let me be the one to take care of you." 

Reaching her destination, she leaned in to kiss the man before her…this loving soul who meant so much to her happiness… past, present, and future.

The End


End file.
